


When It Comes Around

by Amelia_Clark



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Trope Challenge [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s07e23 Survival of the Fittest, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Spin the Bottle, they really should've let Cas get a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 18:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2632400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Clark/pseuds/Amelia_Clark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas narrows his eyes, then sets the cat on the kitchen counter, where she calmly starts washing her face. "We should play spin the bottle," Cas says suddenly, as if it's a logical progression.</p><p>"What? No," says Dean at the same time Meg says, "I'm game, Clarence."</p>
            </blockquote>





	When It Comes Around

**Author's Note:**

> **#6: Spin the bottle**
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry I missed yesterday, y'all. We got our first snow of the season, and I ended up with an all-day weather migraine.

"I found a cat," says Cas when he reappears in the cabin.

And indeed, Dean sees, his arms are full of brown tabby, round-eyed and fat-bellied; it wriggles a bit, startled by teleportation, but Cas bends to whisper something in its ear and it settles, burrows its head under his arm. "What do you think we should name her?"

"Lilith?" Meg suggests, deadpan, and Sam shoots her a murderous look.

"Cas, for fuck's sake," fumes Dean. "A, now is not the fucking time, and two, cats make me sneeze, so thanks for that." Dammit, his eyes are already itching. "Just—put it down and focus."

Cas narrows his eyes like Dean means it literally, then sets the cat on the kitchen counter, where she calmly starts washing her face. "We should play spin the bottle," Cas says suddenly, as if it's a logical progression.

"What? No," says Dean at the same time Meg says, "I'm game, Clarence."

"We have a lot of empty bottles around, Dean," Cas says, and Meg quickly drains the last of her beer and raises it in a toast. 

"Cas, that's not—fuck, it's like talking to a wall. We're not goddamn middle schoolers at their first boy-girl party, we're trying to ward off _another damn apocalypse,_ and if you're not gonna help you might as well not— _not_ help. We don't have time for this shit."

"I've got time, angelcakes," Meg pipes up, and Dean rounds on her, furious, because she does not get to flirt with Cas, that is not something she's allowed to do.

"Shut up, Meg," he shouts, alarming the cat.

"Dean," Sam says, and he makes the single syllable mean _Cas saved my sanity, he's broken, we need him, lay off, I'll deal with this._ Dean glowers and grabs a beer, draining half of it in one swallow.

Sam asks Cas in his most reasonable voice, "Why do you want to play spin the bottle?"

"It will be a bonding experience," Cas asserts, crossing to the table and sitting down next to Meg, who sets her empty beer in front of him with a raised eyebrow. "To link us in affection as well as mutual purpose."

"Do you get why we might balk at that, though?" Sam continues. "It might seem like an affectionate activity to you, Cas, but it's mostly an excuse for, uh, indiscriminate kissing. And Meg's the only woman here, and even if I wasn't straight I wouldn't kiss my brother."

"Kissing is not the only way to express affection," says Cas. "If you wish, you and Dean could exchange some other sign of your fraternal bond—an embrace, for instance, or simply shaking hands. Consider it what I believe Dick Roman—the real Dick Roman, before he was eaten and replaced--would call a 'team-building exercise.'" He drops his air quotes and settles back in his chair. "Perhaps if I felt like part of the team, I would be more willing to help."

"Really," says Sam, and Dean can tell he's thinking about it. And fuck, if Sam's in he's gonna be roped into it, and now he's thinking about Cas kissing Meg up against that wall, and then he's thinking about Cas kissing _him_ up against that wall, and it's not the unwelcome thought he'd pretend it is if anyone asked.

"Five minutes," Dean says, and sits down. Sam looks at him, surprised, and Dean glowers. "Four minutes fifty seconds, get on with it."

It's Meg, naturally, who tips the bottle on its side and spins. She's actually playing fair, though, because it lands on Sam. "Well, Samson, what are you up for? I've been in that body, wouldn't mind taking it for a spin."

Sam's face darkens, but he leans over and pecks her on the cheek. "Weak," she mutters, but she relinquishes the bottle to him.

Sam spins, and of fucking course it stops its wobble pointing right at Dean. "We're shaking hands," says Dean, and they do.

Dean's turn, and his hopes for a second brotherly handshake are dashed, because it ends up on Cas. Dean sticks out his hand, and Cas just looks at it.

"I'd prefer to kiss you, Dean," says Cas, and Sam chokes on his beer.

Dean's trying to think of a response that isn't just storming out of the room, and it's Meg that speaks: "Fuck yes, do it. I've wanted to watch you two go at it for years."

"Shut _up,_ Meg," Dean hisses between clenched teeth, trying and failing not to stare at Cas's mouth. He probably tastes like honey these days, comes an unbidden thought. Honey and, like, starlight or something ridiculous like that. Ridiculous and kind of hot, like Cas himself.

"Fine, OK," says Dean, and unfortunately it's right when Sam thought it was safe to take another sip. He's coughing, and Meg's leering, and Cas is just watching him, eyes wary and blue, and Dean leans forward and presses his mouth to his.

He only means to kiss him for a second, there and gone and done, but Cas rests his hand on Dean's cheek and parts his lips, just a little, and then, fuck, he flicks the tip of his tongue against the bow of Dean's upper lip. And Dean _whimpers,_ totally by accident, and then on purpose, and then he tilts his head and they're really kissing, tongues and all.

Sam makes a strangled noise, Meg whistles, and Dean barely hears. He's holding onto the lapels of Cas's trench coat, the one he kept in his trunk for those bleak months he thought Cas was dead; Cas is stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, and it's sending shivers down Dean's spine. 

Now that he's kissing Cas, he wants to do it forever, and it's completely unfair he has to pull away to breathe. He doesn't move far, resting his forehead on Cas's, their mingled breath hot between them. "Uh," Dean mumbles, "I think it's your turn."

Cas shoots a glance at the bottle and shrugs. "No, I think I already won," he says, and kisses Dean again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Dean's age, so I can't hear the words "spin the bottle" without thinking of [the Juliana Hatfield song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUAVbGoR81I) So I borrowed the title in homage. :D


End file.
